The Greatest of These
by Lyra Ngalia
Summary: A chance meeting outside Harry's office surprises Thomas Raith on the nature of love. Harry-Murphy friendship.; spoilers for Blood Rites.


**The Greatest of These**

It was cold for early October, and I gave the sky an appraising look as I made the way from my car to the door of Harry's office building. It was probably going to snow tonight, which means tomorrow morning the nutjobs who have tracked down SI's office number are going to call in droves, claiming to have seen snow faeries or the abominable snowman or the Little Matchgirl. Maybe Harry will fry the office line for me…

The elevator's doors are closing when I entered the lobby and I broke into a sprint to catch it, nodding to the balding man inside it as he held it for me. Harry's nervousness about small, enclosed spaces has rubbed off on me a little, but I'll use the elevator in his office building. It's taken them years to fix it and who knows how long it'll stay that way? I'll take advantage of it for as long as I can.

My fellow passenger remained silent, and I took the time to thumb through the folder I'd brought with me. Now that I've accepted the craziness and learned what to look for, handling SI's cases has become easier but there are still the seemingly cold cases that I want Harry to look at, just in case it's something spooky.

With an inoffensive little ding, the elevator glided to a stop on Harry's floor and I stepped out, blinking in surprise to see a slouching figure taking up most of the hallway. Tall, fit male with dark hair, pale skin, and stylishly dressed. "What are you doing here, Thomas?" I asked as I neared, for once staring _down_.

Thomas looked up, hair falling into his eyes, and grinned at the sound of my voice. "Afternoon, Karrin," he answered pleasantly. "I'm waiting for Harry. You here on business?"

I held up the manila folder and nodded. "Just a couple of things I want to get his opinion on, off the record." I frowned at the door. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"No idea, he said he was meeting a client. I hope it doesn't take too long; I'd like to get back into the apartment soon," Thomas grumbled as he gestured for me to take a seat next to him.

I shook my head; I needed to get back to SI and update Stallings on the fact that I came up empty at the morgue for John Does. "I'll just slide them under the door and leave Harry a message. Did you lock yourself out?"

"Yeah, managed to get here and catch Harry just as he was leaving so he gave me his keys," Thomas explained, jingling the keys for emphasis. "But the idiot forgot that without the talisman on my key ring, I can't get into his apartment anyway, so I'm stuck waiting for him."

Slipping the file under the door, I straightened up and checked my watch. "Why don't you take mine and get home for your keys?" I asked. With Harry's luck, he'll probably be gone for hours, and Thomas would end up getting in trouble around here; some days I wonder if Harry's life is a sitcom, My Brother the Sex Vampire, or something equally absurd with canned laugh track. I reach under my collar and pulled out the leather cord that kept the talisman around my neck, raising it over my head and offering it to Thomas.

Hope bloomed on Thomas's face at the thought of being rescued from boredom and I held back a smile. Sometimes the resemblance between the two was obvious. "You sure, Karrin?" he asked, catching the little circle of wood with his hand.

"Just bring it back by SI once you've gotten your own keys. I don't want Harry to—" I stopped in mid-sentence when I noticed Thomas' sudden wince. "You okay, Thomas?"

Thomas nodded, then held the talisman back out to me, holding the leather cord between his thumb and forefinger. "You know what, I think I'll just wait for Harry. He'd probably feel better if the things that can let anyone past his wards weren't floating around."

I gave Thomas the once-over, keeping my mouth shut as he quailed a little, and took the talisman back, tucking the pale wood pendant back under my shirt. He wasn't going to talk, but it's still nice to know that even the supernatural find the cop stare a little intimidating. "I'll drive you home and let you back in," I said, offering Thomas a hand. "Harry's place isn't too far from SI." Thomas was either grateful for the ride or just had the good graces not to call me on the lie.

"You're a lifesaver, Karrin." He took my hand, pulling himself up with a grin. His smile was intense, all boyish sincerity and naughty sensuality, and I felt my skin flush hot as I met his eyes.

"Thomas?" I asked, mildly annoyed that my voice was breathier than it should have. His smile deepened and I squeezed his hand. "If you don't keep it in your pants, my gun is going to accidentally discharge and it's going to get messy, okay?"

The heat that had flooded me left as suddenly as it had come, leaving me disoriented. I grinned as Thomas' eyes widened and he backed away from me, waving his hands placatingly. "Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to turn on the charm with you right then."

My eyebrows must have tried to crawl off the top of my head, and Thomas backed away some more, eyeing my empty hands with caution. "The 'charm'?" I repeated, jerking my head towards the elevator down the hall. "Come on, I'm getting you home before you force me to kick your ass, pretty boy."

I headed down the hallway without another word, the low heels of my shoes tapping out a brisk rhythm. I was about halfway to the elevator before Thomas followed.

* * *

I thanked Karrin for letting me back into the apartment or, at least, I thought I did. My mind was so busy thinking on the implications of the burn on my hand that I might have just wandered in without a word. If I did, I'm sure Karrin just thought she'd scared me too much to talk.

Sitting in the apartment with Mouse napping next to me, I stared at the faint circular burn on my palm. It wasn't blistering, mostly just dark pink and sensitive, but I'd only held Karrin's talisman for a few seconds. Still, I'm trying to wrap my mind around the thought that my little brother loved Karrin Murphy. I mean, I think even the blind panhandler down the street knew that Harry's got a thing for Murphy, but I didn't realize it was _love_. Hell, Harry probably doesn't realize it's love (my little brother is a lumbering wizarding bonehead).

The more I thought about it, though, the more it made sense. Whether Harry and Karrin were _in_ love, in the romantic sense, is open for debate. (Personally, the unresolved sexual tension between the two of them is driving me nuts, literally thick enough in the air that I can taste it, but I digress.) There's no denying that they are close friends, and maybe that platonic love is strong enough to affect vampires like me.

Mouse raised his head just then, staring at me with his big dog eyes, and licked my palm, dragging his rough tongue over the burn. I frowned at him, mildly grateful that he hadn't decided to drool on me for good measure, and stood up. "You want me off the couch, Mouse?" I asked as I shuffled over to the kitchen to wash my hands.

As I soaped up then proceeded to freeze my hands (I wish Harry could make himself a little magic water heater; how he lives through Chicago winters is beyond me), I wondered whether Karrin felt the same way about Harry, whether his friendship carried the same intensity for her as hers does for him. Drying my hands on my pants, I eyed the neat apartment critically (how does Harry _do_ this? I leave for half an hour and the place is spotless); if I could find something Karrin gave Harry, I'd be able to satisfy my curiosity.

The idea of using myself as a human love detector (complete with burning feeling) was not appealing, but my insatiable curiosity about my brother was stronger and I set about rifling through Harry's belongings. (One would think that Lara thoroughly kicking my fourteen-year-old ass for going through her sizeable 'trophy collection' would have curbed the nosy sibling tendencies, but I just learned not to get caught.)

Nothing on the shelf full of ragged, secondhand paperbacks required more attention than a quick run of the finger over the spines. I didn't expect them to; Karrin had mentioned before that Harry's taste in books was appalling. The kitchen pantry was full of… Froot Loops? (I _know_ they were empty when I left the apartment. Where is this stuff coming from?) I doubted Karrin was the Bringer of Froot Loops, but I checked the boxes anyway, nothing.

My eyes fell on the can by the door where Harry kept his sword cane, his staff, his blasting rod, and the rest of his phallic symbols. (My brother? Sexually repressed? Not in the slightest.) Neither his staff nor his blasting rod were there since he was at his office, but I never did ask him where his sword cane came from. Instinct made me reach for it, pushing a rough length of wood wrapped in athletic tape out of my way to do so. I could have only touched the staff for a second or two, but I snatched my hand back immediately, cradling it in my unscathed hand. The beat-up staff had _scorched_, and my palm now had a second mark on it, a long line across my fingers where I had touched the staff.

I stuck my hands under the kitchen tap, suddenly grateful for my brother's medieval ways. (Why did I think going around looking for things that would burn me would be a good idea?) The cold water washed away the immediate throbbing sensation, and I craned my neck to stare at the can. What _was_ that stick that had burned me?

It didn't look like much, a sturdy, unadorned length of wood, a little shorter and thinner than Harry's staff. It took a few moments for me to realize it was exactly what I had been looking for, the Aikido practice staff Karrin had given Harry for Christmas. I felt the grin spread over my face as my unburned hand traced the pattern of burns on my slowly numbing palm. It felt _damned_ good to be right.

Idly, I wondered if Lara would ever figure out just where Harry's protection came from. The rest of the White Court had learned about Harry and Susan from me, and we had all assumed it was her protection he'd received. Given the way we worked, it's not surprising that our first instinct was to ask who Harry Dresden had slept with that could offer him such protection. My brother's mind-blowingly long dry spell certainly hadn't given the Court any opportunity to suspect otherwise, and I felt comfortable keeping that secret. Hell, even Harry didn't realize his untouchability came from Karrin and not Susan. (I suspect that if I told him, Harry's brain would explode.)

My hand was thoroughly numbed by this point, and I shut off the water, drifting back to the couch. It was still a little hard to absorb; a fundamental pillar of what I knew about Harry Dresden had just been shaken. Still, the more I thought about it, the more relieved I got. Harry's protection against our kind had never been terribly strong; Lara mentioned that she'd been able to turn his eye even when she hadn't been able to affect Arturo, but now I don't have to worry about him becoming susceptible to White Court influence once he gets laid again. (Just for the record, he needs it, badly.)

A tension I hadn't realized I'd carried leeched out of me when I realized that the people I cared about the most were now protected from my family: Justine, Harry, and even Karrin. Maybe it goes to show just how abysmal of a White Court vampire I am, but I'm glad they're safe from the likes of me. Harry once laughed at me when I quoted Christian Scripture at him about love, about its power over those of us who fed on emotion. But it's true, none of the Vampire Courts were much affected by hope. The Red and the Black can be repelled by faith, but love protects the beloved from the White. Talismans of faith can be lost, but love's protection is bone deep, soul deep. There is something to be said about the peace of knowing those you love cannot be harmed by the danger you know.

What do you know, my sonofabitch father was right about something after all.


End file.
